


Flickering Fantasies

by lostsoul512



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Tension, M/M, awkward everything, wrathion is sassy always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsoul512/pseuds/lostsoul512
Summary: If there was one thing the prince of Stormwind had learned in his time spent with the Black Prince Wrathion, it was that whatever put him into a good mood was usually questionable for everyone else involved.Based on the tumblr prompt "imagine your otp reading fanfic of themselves".





	Flickering Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of love to what_the_fel for suffering through this disaster of a story with me.

Right away, Anduin could tell that Wrathion was in a particularly good mood, so right away he was wary. If there was one thing the prince of Stormwind had learned in his time spent with the Black Prince Wrathion, it was that whatever put him into a good mood was usually questionable for everyone else involved. 

He sat down across from him at their usual table, a slight frown tugging at his brows and a slight ache reverberating through his body. Weeks had passed since his arrival to the tavern, where he had been exiled to carry out his recovery far away from war and his father and the potential to cause any more problems for either of the two. 

But weeks had not been long enough for the pain to fade completely; he was starting to suspect that no amount of time would be enough. Perhaps he would instead be forced to spend the rest of his life reliant on a black dragon to support his weight whenever he had to take more than two dozen steps. The irony alone would surely be enough to topple his entire kingdom. 

Weeks had passed since his arrival at the tavern, and it that time there had been established a sort of routine between the two, one that generally included Wrathion greeting him with some overly extravagant form of good morning before diving headfirst into his usual barrage of insults disguised as compliments or sometimes the other way around, one that Anduin hadn't realized he’d gotten used to until he was sitting across from the self-proclaimed prince with the sun glinting off his pointed incisors and the silence stretching around them. 

“I’m impressed,” the blonde blurted, when he could no longer stand it. “I didn't know that you could go this long without hearing yourself speak.” 

Wrathion had been absorbed in the pages of a book from the moment Anduin had arrived, but he lifted his crimson gaze at that, just enough to meet the pale blue eyes of the human. “Do you know what this is, Anduin Wrynn?” 

“A book,” he replied, the crease in his brow deepening. It wasn't the first time that Wrathion had asked him a foolish question, so he knew that it was best to just indulge him and get it over with.

Wrathion’s grin was seldom ever friendly- closer to condescending- and he was wearing it now, and Anduin had to remind himself that the man before him was not a man at all, but an infantile dragon that should not have had the capability to make his blood burn hotter than the molten lava flowing through the very mountain to which his estranged family had belonged. 

“That is correct, my dear prince,” he said then. “And do you know what you’re meant to do with books?” 

“I told you I’m not going to answer you when patronize me like that.” 

“You read them,” Wrathion answered for him. “It is a task that requires a decent amount of concentration, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to forgive my seeming distracted- although, really, you are the one distracting me, as I was already reading by the time you arrived.” 

Right away, Anduin could tell that it was going to be one of those kinds of days, and he regretted having spoken at all. 

Rolling his eyes, Wrathion refocused his attention on the open tome, the only remaining sound the occasional turning of the pages. 

Anduin had always taken pride in his patience, but Wrathion had always known how to wear it thin, and so it was mere minutes before he was sighing and shifting and asking, “What are you reading so intently, anyway?” 

In a blur of motion, Wrathion’s arm curled protectively around the book. “It wouldn't interest you.” 

Somehow, Anduin kept both his gaze and his tone level. “I want to see it,” he said, surprising even himself with how insistent he sounded- perhaps he really was spending too much time around the young dragon, and his demanding tendencies had started to rub off. 

But the young dragon was not impressed; he gave a short laugh. “The prince of passivity is giving me orders now?” 

Ignoring the insult and the question and just Wrathion in general, Anduin made an impulsive decision- he threw himself forward in attempt to snatch the book away. Wrathion, however, had no intention of going down without a fight, and the result was a disheveled blonde prince sprawled halfway across the table with his hand outstretched towards the dragon’s lap- an affair that earned the glances of everyone else in sight and would no doubt by reported to the king immediately. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Wrathion muttered, but Anduin ignored that too, and after a moment he relinquished his control and his hold all at once, allowing Anduin to take it. 

If Wrathion was bothered by the apparent defeat, he hid it tremendously well, folding his arms over his chest and giving the human something like a cross between a scowl and a smirk. “You aren't going to like it,” he repeated. “When I am proven right, do not let yourself forget that I warned you.” 

Anduin didn't bother to respond, just set the book before him- it was largely unremarkable, simple bound leather with scuffed corners and frayed pages, but it had become the most fascinating thing in the world the moment Wrathion had tried to keep it from him. 

Flipping it open to the first page, his eyes scanned quickly over the words, penned in a neat- if not a bit rushed- handwriting. He didn't know what had made had made the dragon so defensive, but he was fully expecting the worst. It was no secret that the Black Prince was conniving, ruthless and notorious for keeping all manner of questionable characters under his spell. If Anduin himself had not witnessed how charmingly charismatic he could be, he’d have accused him of using an actual spell on them. 

But whatever he’d been expecting, he was quickly proven wrong. It took less than three sentences to realize that this was not a secret missive or hidden message at all- it was lines upon lines of horrifyingly detailed, graphically depicted stories involving both Anduin and Wrathion in horrifyingly graphic situations, which only seemed to get worse with each new page. 

The blush that stained his cheeks by the time he lifted his gaze made the crimson in Wrathion’s eyes seem pathetically dull. “Wh-what is this?” He sputtered, slamming the book shut as though sealing away its contents would remove them from where they had engrained themselves into his mind. “Where did you find this?” 

Wrathion, who had been uncharacteristically silent, offered nothing more than a slight shrug and the same arrogant smirk that Anduin had come to know and hate. “Someone left it behind in one of the rooms upstairs,” he replied. “I can't be certain, but based on the explicitly descriptive nature, I would wager it was almost certainly written by some Sin’dorei with too much time on their hands.” 

Anduin was stunned, speechless, pinned in place by the dragon’s stare. He tried to focus on breathing in something at least resembling a pattern, tried to focus on slowing his heart, tried to focus on anything but the flickering images that played out across his mind or the way that they made his stomach twist and his- 

He shoved the book away roughly. “Why would someone…” The rest of the question died in his mouth; he barely even knew what he was trying to ask.

Somehow, Wrathion still managed to understand Anduin’s inability to clarify- another of his remarkable talents. “I suspect,” he said, matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that whoever wrote this took note our of relationship and assumed that there was something more intimate going on between us.” 

The feeling in his stomach was getting harder to ignore. 

“Why would they think that?” He pressed, hating how frantic the words sounded as he blurted them out- hating how the gleam in Wrathion’s eyes seemed to brighten at his discomfort. 

But even with his gleaming eyes and his gleaming teeth all on display from his stupid smirk, Wrathion was silent, and for the briefest of seconds both vanished entirely, but whatever flickered up to take their places was gone before Anduin had the chance to decipher it. 

“Well, I don't know,” the dragon scoffed at last, waving the question off with a flick of his wrist. “Perhaps it is because I am simply so handsome it is to be assumed that anyone who spends any length of time in my presence is bound to develop feelings for me.” 

Now it was Anduin’s turn to scoff, but somehow he never pulled it off as well as his companion. “Perhaps it’s because you’re so much of a-” 

His insults were interrupted swiftly by the sound of approaching footsteps, stealing Wrathion’s attention away all at once. “You’ll have to excuse me, my dear prince,” he said, rising to his feet, his gaze shifting to the entryway to the tavern. His tone was final, dismissive; Anduin desperately wished he could dismiss the intrusive sting of rejection as easily. 

The blonde rose too, slowly, clutching to the edge of the table for support. He’d never been particularly thankful for his injuries- even he had found it difficult to cling to the idea of the greater good when he was all but paralyzed and confined to agony- but he couldn't help feeling like maybe he might be thankful for them at that moment, at least a little, because it was far easier to blame the sudden feeling of weakness on aching joints and knotted muscles than on the way he longed for one final glance from the Black Prince as he walked away- a glance that never came.

…

Anduin spent the rest of the day in self-imposed solitude and a considerable amount of discomfort, trying and failing and trying again to keep himself distracted so as to keep his mind from wandering too far. 

Weeks had passed since his arrival to the tavern, so he’d had plenty of time to grow accustomed to the small chamber he called his own- the furthest from the stairs, because security took precedence over his near inability to walk. It was nearly empty, nothing but the bed and a small table in the corner, the entirety of which was covered in books- some he had requested to be sent from Stormwind, and others had been left for him by Jaina, who had been insistent that a good book could cure broken bones and well as broken hearts. 

The crowning jewel of the collection had been a gift from the Black Prince himself, a beautifully bound tome containing an extensive account of Pandaren history, but he was trying not to think of Wrathion, and so he left that one untouched. 

Instead, he returned to his bed with one The Abridged Anthology of Ansirem Runeweaver’s Experiments in Arcane Enchantments. He’d been trying to get past the second page for days, but the book was twice as dull as it was heavy- if this was the abridged version, he shuddered to picture the complete edition- made more so by the fact that he had never studied an ounce of magic and therefore understood little beyond the conjunctions holding the sentences together. 

This, he decided, made it the perfect selection to numb his mind and occupy his thoughts with something other than Wrathion. Of course, as it went, his mind always seemed most capable of focusing on the one thing he was trying to avoid, and so by the time he reached the second sentence, his thoughts had strayed once more to the infuriating dragon. 

It was a short distance between thoughts of Wrathion and thoughts of the appalling piece of writing to which he’d been subjected. Anduin had hoped that perhaps he might find a way to forget what he had seen, but this was seeming more and more impossible with each passing second; the words had etched themselves into his mind, where they seemed content to replay over and over until nothing else existed. 

The only thing worse than this was the images that that he’d conjured up in his head. Whoever had penned the atrocities to which he’d been exposed had spared no detail- that had been clear from what brief excerpts he’d scanned- and those vivid descriptions had formed vivid scenes to accompany them, and so every time he dared to blink he was met with flickering fantasies of Wrathion pressing in against him, fingers in his hair and teeth bared against his throat and voice low and rumbling as he growled out the terrible, horrible things he wanted to do- 

A hissing sigh fell from his lips as he tightened his grip on the edges of the book, silently thankful for its convenient placement across his lap. “Stop,” he muttered aloud, hoping that shattering the silence might shatter the growing tension within him, but his voice sounded shaky and convictionless in the emptiness. The lack of control felt unfamiliar, uncharacteristic- he tried to take a few steadying breaths, but they all felt too short, and he could feel his body aching, except this time it had nothing to do with his broken bones. 

Anduin had rarely been the sort to go running headlong into danger- the incident with Garrosh Hellscream had been an isolated incident, no matter what his father had tried to say- and he liked to think that he was wise enough to recognize it when it was staring him in the face, particularly when it was doing so with crimson eyes. Wrathion was threatening enough as an acquaintance; it was practically a death wish to entertain the idea of anything beyond that. 

Of course, Anduin could acknowledge that the dragon was attractive, with the way that his soft dark curls slipped free to fall around his face, and the way that his lips twitched at the corners when he was trying so desperately to cling to his composure, and that damned arrogance that he wore as proudly as Anduin wore his tabard. Wrathion set a fire ablaze in the pit of his stomach like nothing he had ever encountered before, a gnawing sensation that became impossible to ignore; he had tried to attribute it to the undeniable sense of thrill and wonder that came with spending even a moment in his presence, but he was starting to suspect it was something else, something unfamiliar and all-consuming, something that was perhaps not unrecognizable but that he simply refused to recognize. 

…

Weeks had passed since his arrival at the tavern, and in that time Anduin could count on one hand the number of times that he had missed out on sharing his dinner with the Black Prince. Even when he had been bound to his bed by injury and inability, Wrathion had come to join him, pulling a chair up beside him so that he could simultaneously berate his fragile mortality and offer him aid when he seemed to struggle more than usual. 

Several hours but not quite so many pages later, Anduin had accepted both his defeat and his lack of ability to leave his room- the idea of sitting across from the dragon and forcing conversation as though he hadn't spent the vast majority of the day afflicted with the desire that Wrathion might wander in and join him for something more than just a partially polite conversation was simply impossible to handle; not even his composure was strong enough for such a task. 

Instead, he’d sent one of his guards to retrieve his dinner for him- from the moment he had been deposited here, there had been a pair of silently stoic soldiers posted outside his door, towering and imposing in their full armor and their Alliance colors, never speaking but always watching and undoubtedly reporting back to their king whenever Anduin so much as walked from one side of his room to the other. 

The guard returned shortly after being sent away, but he was empty-handed and definitely not alone- he was led into the room by a fiery-eyed dragon, scowling and snarling and staring straight at the blonde as he strode to the edge of the bed in a few easy strides. “You always join me for dinner,” he stated, simple words that held a considerable amount of malice. 

“Hello to you, too,” the human prince muttered. “Really, Wrathion, for someone who is entertaining half of the Horde and the Alliance, your social skills need some work-” 

“Do not mock me, Anduin Wrynn,” the dragon huffed, intently enough that he half expected to see smoke clouds slipping from his nostrils. “You have avoided me all day and now I am to find out second-handedly that you’re to skip out of dinner as well?” 

Fighting off a groan at the twinge of pain that radiated through him, Anduin pulled himself up so that he was leaning back against the headboard- the least he could do to make it harder for Wrathion to look down upon him. He’d hoped that he might buy himself a few seconds to conjure up a reply, but it seemed that the theme of his day would consist of being proven wrong, because even when he was closer to eye-level he was just as speechless as before. 

“I’m not avoiding you,” he said eventually, but even as he did so he was in fact quite deliberately avoiding his gaze- a single glimpse had been enough to reignite the fires within his veins that he had finally managed to douse. 

“You are,” Wrathion retorted, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “You’re avoiding me, and now you’re lying to me about it as well. I’m starting to think I should be offended.”

“It appears as though you already are,” Anduin pointed out. 

This was not the first time he had witnessed the Black Prince’s temper, quick to rise and merciless when it did, but he had rarely found himself the subject of that temper. It might have frightened him, once, but he was not frightened now- not by anything except the heat pooling at the base of his spine, twisting in the pit of stomach and winding itself in and out of his ribs, because he was having an incredibly difficult time focusing on Wrathion as he was before him now and not Wrathion as he had existed within the confines of his mind, with half the amount of distance and less than half the amount of clothing-

‘Are you even listening to me?” Wrathion snapped then, his tone a clear indication that he was fully aware Anduin had not been listening to him. 

“Your Highness,” the guard, who had been hovering behind the dragon with his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword, interrupted quickly. “Should I remove him from your chambers?” 

“No,” Anduin replied, too quickly, too breathily, shaking his head. Swallowing hard, he repeated himself, clinging to his steadily decreasing composure. “No, that won't be necessary. You may return to your post, please.” 

The man hesitated a moment longer, his gaze flickering between them, but ultimately decided there was no immediate threat and turned his back; the sound of the door clicking into place was the only thing louder than the sound of Anduin’s own heart while he tried to determine whether or not he agreed. 

When the silence returned, Anduin was quick to shatter it with a sigh. “I’m not avoiding you,” he repeated, finally lifting his gaze to meet Wrathion’s own, which had narrowed in cold calculation, the inevitable aftermath of his calming anger. “I’m just…” Trying to pretend that he hadn't been wondering if his skin really was as warm as molten rivers, he thought, but the best that he offered the dragon was a slight shrug. 

Wrathion tilted his head, watching him like maybe if stared intently enough he might be able to pick him apart and discover what was hidden between the pieces- if Anduin had not been blushing before, he certainly was now. “Stop that,” he blurted, thinking that it sounded more like a whimper than a command. 

If the smirk that he wore was any indication, Wrathion had thought the same. “Stop what?” 

“Looking at me like I’m one of your champions that you can manipulate into doing your bidding.” 

The dragon laughed at that, a deep and genuine sound that sent an unwanted shiver dancing over each ridge of Anduin’s spine. “I would never try to manipulate you, my dear prince,” he spoke; somehow, the words came out as both a promise and a taunt. “If I wanted you to do my bidding, I would find other ways to convince you.” 

It wasn't difficult for the blonde mustered up a scowl. “I had thought that to be your intention over these past few weeks,” he said. “Has it been working out as you imagined it would?” 

For the briefest of seconds, the smirk flickered into a sneer, but it returned as easily as it had left. “Undecided,” he replied, and left it at that. 

This time, when the silence returned, it didn't feel nearly as crushing- less like the weight of an ancient artifact shattered and collapsed upon him and more like a moment of relief from the insurmountable effort it took to keep pace with the Black Prince. 

Wrathion must have decided that he was comfortable enough, because a moment later he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Even still he took great care in doing so, shifting his weight slowly, attentively, and Anduin might have thought it ridiculous if he hadn't secretly cherished the notion that someone who prided himself on being ruthlessly analytical and unattached to anything but his own goals could demonstrate such a level of consideration. 

Maybe, Anduin thought, he had been a bit melodramatic about the whole thing, allowing it to fester within himself and grow into more than it should have been. Regardless of whether or not it was wise to say so, Wrathion was his friend- perhaps the only friend he’d ever really had, and it seemed childish and petty to let something so ridiculous affect him so heavily. So what if someone had taken it upon themselves to assume there was something beyond mere companionship between them? Anduin was no stranger to gossip or rumors, and he had always managed to brush them off in the past- surely he could do so again. 

Smoothing his fingers over the blankets draped across his legs, the blonde stole a quick glance at Wrathion, putting all of his effort into telling himself that everything was fine between them, just as it had always been, and whatever fantasies his mind had created were merely a product of someone else’s imagination that in no way reflected his own feelings or desires. 

Even with all of his effort, he had to repeat the thought at least half a dozen times before he started to believe it. 

Just when he thought he had managed to convince himself to forget the entirety of the day’s events, Wrathion twisted around to catch his gaze, allowing his lips to curl back into a small smirk. “I finished the story,” he said, as nonchalantly as if he were making some passing comment on the weather, and right away all of Anduin’s efforts went to waste. 

“Wh-Why?” He sputtered, a frown overtaking his face. “Why would you want to?” 

“What do you mean, why?” Wrathion retorted, but for once he sounded more curious than degrading, like he genuinely didn't understand. 

Anduin didn't understand either, though he suspected it was for a different reason completely- he didn't understand how the dragon could seem so unbothered by this, how he could speak so casually like there was nothing even remotely unnerving about the fact that someone would have the audacity to fill an entire book with explicit- and utterly fabricated- stories about the two of them. 

He wanted desperately to ask him outright, wanted to see if maybe there might be even the slightest flicker of a reaction, but when he managed to find his voice the most he was able to get out was, “Just seemed a little vulgar.” 

Wrathion’s laugh was far from humorless and farther still from kind. “It was only a harmless story,” he replied, hitching his shoulder into a shrug. Anduin didn't think there was anything harmless about the rapid downward spiral of delusions that were twice as vulgar as anything he’d read, but he kept himself silent. “Besides,” the dragon pressed on, arching a single dark brow. “I thought the portrayal of me was quite lovely. I mean, I always knew that I was charming, but I didn't realize just how charming-” 

“You’re arrogant,” Anduin corrected. “Arrogant and insufferable and-” 

“And intoxicatingly attractive and the only person that you have ever desired in your entire life,” Wrathion interrupted, and for once his smirk was replaced with a brightly beaming smile, to which Anduin could only reply with a look of total shock. “You told me so in the sixth chapter of the story.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the blonde muttered, shaking his head. “Did I also tell you that I’ve never met anyone that has the power to infuriate me so easily?” 

“Yes,” the dragon answered easily. “In the eighth chapter.” 

For several long seconds, Anduin could do nothing but stare at him, widened eyes and parted lips, asking himself how he had managed to end up here, in this moment, with a black dragon perched on the edge of his bed while he wondered if that ‘lovely’ portrayal had been accurate in its detailing of the body concealed underneath those ornate clothes. 

This time, it was Wrathion who decided that he’d had enough of the silence, and he gave the young human a pointed look. “Aren't you the least bit curious as to how it ended?” He asked then, but he was retrieving it from the inner pocket of his tunic before Anduin had a chance to reply one way or the other. 

Sucking in a breath, the human released it in a sigh, one that sounded far closer to a defeated groan. “Fine,” he mumbled. “You win. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” 

“Tremendously,” Wrathion assured him. “It must be that insufferable arrogance you speak so highly of.” 

Anduin opened his mouth to reply, but was quick to snap it shut again; instead, he focused on tangling and untangling his fingers into the sheets as he watched while Wrathion thumbed through the pages. 

“Here,” he said eagerly, opening the book fully before him and- was that an illustration?- flashing a grin of fleeting amusement at the older boy. “Though you know, it’s really not going to make very much sense without knowing what comes before-” 

“Just read it,” Anduin said quickly, his exasperation evident in the words. “Before I change my mind.” 

The dragon gave a sharp nod, blinked a few times and finally fixed his gaze on the page before him. He made a great show of clearing his throat, one that earned him an eye roll from his human companion, and when he started to read at last, he did so with every bit as much exaggerated enthusiasm as Anduin might have expected. 

“In the morning, Anduin wakes up with his body hurting in ways he didn't even know it could hurt,” he began, and already the blonde could feel the flames of humiliation spreading over his cheeks. “Wrathion is gone from the bed, and Anduin tries not to be upset, but he’s a little frightened because he still doesn't really trust Wrathion even though they just spent the whole night with their di-” 

“Skip that part,” Anduin interrupted, earning him a ruby eye roll of his own. 

“Don't interrupt,” the Black Prince scolded, but when he started up once again it was clear that he had moved on to the next paragraph. “But Wrathion has not gone very far- he’s right downstairs where he always is, entertaining a beautiful blonde elf with beautiful eyes and a beautiful body-” Pausing, he glanced up through his dark lashes. “I told you it was written by a blood elf- while he waits for the blonde that he really wants, who is also okay looking for being a scrawny human I guess. 

“But when Anduin arrives it’s obvious that Wrathion doesn't care about anything else,” he continued; the human felt more than saw the way that he shifted his weight around a little. “And everyone can tell that their relationship is more than just arguing and sexual tension except apparently them, so they just keep on pretending like that’s all there is between them but it works for them like that, and even though Azeroth has pretty much gone to shit they live happily ever after anyway, but they’d probably lie about it if anyone asked.” 

As soon as the dragon had fallen silent, Anduin blinked, knitting his brows together tightly into a frown. “That’s it? All that...explicit content and it ends with us living happily ever after?” It felt a little ridiculous, he thought- not only the story itself, but the very notion of living ‘happily ever after’ with the Black Prince, like this was all just some romanticized love story instead of a raging war that could very well cost him everything that he knew and loved. 

Wrathion only shrugged, closing the book with a definitive thud. “It was a nice sentiment, I thought,” he replied, his tone soft enough to catch the human off guard. Tilting his head, he stole a long glance from the corner of his eye. “Do you suppose that we will still remain friends, when you are healed and no longer bound to my presence?” 

If it was at all possible, Anduin’s frown deepened at the question; he hated to admit it, but he had grown so accustom to having Wrathion around that he hadn't even really considered that one day he’d be permitted to return to Stormwind- and that there was a very slim chance Wrathion would be going with him. A rush of- well, it was not quite sadness, but it was dangerously close- moved through him at the abrupt realization, and that was immediately followed by the formation of a singular thought, the only coherent thing that he’d been able to manage all day- 

He didn't want to lose him. 

He didn't want to lose their daily morning arguments or their routine dinners where Wrathion would talk between every bite about the greater good that Anduin’s feeble mortal mind could scarcely begin to comprehend. He didn't want to lose their late nights spent under the stars, when the air was crisp and the world felt endless and the both of them could just be without having to be something. He didn't want to lose the feeling of Wrathion’s hand steadily pressing into the small of his back when his steps started to falter, or the feeling of his gaze upon him from across the room, or the feeling of comforting familiarity that seemed to fill the space around Anduin whenever they were together.

He didn't want to lose Wrathion, not in any way, not for a moment. 

He knew this to be true, felt the sincerity of it reverberating in every one of his half healed bones. Granted, it was the only thing he knew- he hadn't the slightest clue as to what he did want, or why his heart was suddenly beating twice as quickly as it usually did, or why it was taking so much effort to keep himself from lunging towards the dragon- 

Anduin had rarely been the sort to go running headlong into danger, but for the Black Prince, he might make an exception. 

“Anduin?” It was the dragon in question who dragged him back into the moment, concern masked by a mocking tone and an arched brow. “Are you quite alright?” 

It would have been easy to tell him that yes, of course, he was fine, to brush it off and retreat into the comforting familiarity of their routine, where everything was expected and predictable and safe- but then, no one ever lived happily ever after by taking the easy way out. 

So instead, Anduin took in a slow, shaky breath, and he shook his head- slowly, shakily- and by some miracle he found the strength to lift his gaze to meet Wrathion’s own, crystalline blue to blazing red. “I don't want to remain your friend,” he murmured- slowly, shakily. In an instant, Wrathion had rearranged his features into the deadliest scowl that the human had ever seen, but Anduin held up a hand, pleading him for a moment to clarify. “I- I don't want to remain your friend, because doing so would imply that what I feel towards you is- is strictly platonic, and- well, I’m just not sure that it is.” 

The silence that followed was overwhelming and endless, heavy as it hung in the air around them and threatened to push out what little air remained in his lungs, and with each desperate gasping breath for more Anduin wondered if he might be able to retract the words, because he was suddenly feeling much less bold than he’d been a moment ago. 

And then, of all the possible things he could have done, all the possible words he might have strung into possible sentences and offered as possible comfort, the Black Prince Wrathion laughed. It was a deep, genuine laugh- not the sharp, mocking sort to which Anduin had grown accustom- and with each second it lingered the blonde felt the intensity of his blush increase, until he was certain his cheeks were bright enough to put the dragon’s eyes to shame. 

“You can go now,” he muttered, crossing his arms and letting his own gaze fall to his lap. 

Shaking his head, Wrathion worked hard to compose himself, choking down the last of his laughter and smoothing his hands over the fine materials of his tunic. “I’m sorry,” he said between fading laughs and sharp breaths, and even if he didn't notice it himself Anduin was acutely aware of the fact that it was the first time Wrathion had ever told him so. “I’m not mocking you- really, I’m not-” 

“I don't believe you,” Anduin retorted. 

“I swear it,” the dragon pressed. “I meant no offense. I just- well, you’ve always struck me as a bit of a romantic, Anduin Wrynn. Forgive me for imagining that your grand gesture of undying love might be a bit more...grand.” 

Now it was Anduin’s turn for a sharp breath, a gasp that hissed as it passed through his teeth. “My grand- undying what?” 

“Grand gesture,” Wrathion repeated, slower this time, like perhaps if he drew the words out into as many syllables as possible then Anduin might comprehend them better. “Brilliant display of affection. Melodramatic manifestation signifying a deep emotional desire. Over-the-top demonstration of-” 

“I get it,” Anduin cut him off. “I don't have a grand gesture.” 

Wrathion’s smirk had returned in full, and Anduin had never hated it more. “But you admit to the undying love part?” 

“I didn't say that either.” 

“Well perhaps you ought to. I’ve heard that in these situations it’s best for both parties to express their feelings.” 

Gritting his teeth against his own frustration, Anduin shook his head. He should have known what a terrible idea this would become. “The only feelings I wish to express right now are those of extreme agitation with your continued lack of ability to handle anything with even a shred of consideration for anyone but yourself.” 

“I reject that,” the Black Prince replied, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of his nose. “I consider you in many things that I do. Otherwise, I would have already displaced your father and seized control of the Alliance on my own.” 

“I told you to stop talking about killing my father,” Anduin reminded him.

“You’re missing the point,” Wrathion said quickly, although Anduin thought that maybe he was only trying to distract him from it. “The point is, I consider you more often than you might think. And I too have considered that I would be rather displeased with having to lose the companionship we have established between us.” Pausing, he flashed a grin that did a magnificent job of demonstrating the full row of unnaturally sharpened teeth. “However agitating you might find it.”

Anduin put equal amounts of effort into ignoring the tugging in his stomach and the tightness in his throat. “Companionship?” He echoed, begging his voice not to shake and cursing it when it did.

If Wrathion noticed, he chose not to point it out, a rare and appreciated show of mercy. “Do you have a better term for it?” He asked, lifting his brows.

None of the terms that came to mind seemed any better, so Anduin only shook his head. He’d reached a feeling of foolishness he’d previously believed to be impossible, trapped under the intense scrutiny of the dragon’s gaze, wondering if it was past the point of pretending none of this conversation had ever happened and resuming the normalcy of their aforementioned companionship.

“In any event,” Wrathion pressed on, because he couldn’t stand the idea of sitting in silence when he had the alternate option of hearing himself speak. “I suppose what I am trying to say that…well, I think I have grown rather fond of you, Anduin Wrynn.”

Suddenly, his inability to stay silent didn’t seem so terrible, and the weight that had rested upon him didn’t seem so unbearable. “I’m fond of you too, Wrathion,” he said, and this time his voice didn’t shake at all. 

All at once, the dragon’s brilliantly devious smirk returned, replacing whatever sincerity might have existed in his expression. “Of course you are,” he replied. “I am both charming and charismatic, not to mention-“

“Less fond by the second,” Anduin interrupted, earning himself a sharp glance.

The unlikely pair slipped with ease back into their usual banter, the comforting familiarity of their routine- but within it now existed something new, something unfamiliar but not unwelcome, something unspoken and yet understood. Perhaps neither of them knew what the future would hold, not for certain, but Anduin felt confident that whatever it brought he and Wrathion would face it together, side by side, one day- one moment- at time.

Before he could think to stop it, Anduin felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth- one that did not go unnoticed by the Black Prince. “What are you smiling about?” He asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Oh, nothing,” Anduin replied, the grin unwavering. “Just Sin'dorei with too much time on their hands.”


End file.
